


Where the Waves Shatter

by Viari



Series: Enter the Foreign & related stories [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Challenge Response, Dark Romance, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Love/Hate, One Shot, POV Original Character, Romance, Sequel, Unrequited Love, Vignette, super evil chaos twins of evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viari/pseuds/Viari
Summary: Feelings are hard, especially for a not-quite-former Sith Lord.Or,Darth Festus and Allana Djo Solo face off in combat for the first time since Vjun.Alternate universe, 54 ABY, one-shot, angst, unrequited love, POV original character.Inspired by Pablo Neruda's Sonnet IX
Relationships: Allana Solo/Original Character(s)
Series: Enter the Foreign & related stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988521
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Where the Waves Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think this can stand on its own, but it's also a sequel to both [The Lands of the Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27230911) and [Enter the Foreign](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843246/chapters/62786074). It connects very closely with the former and contains some minor spoilers for the latter. What can I say? My muse refuses to work chronologically. ;)
> 
> This was written in response to a challenge on another site. I was given a quote from a sonnet to use as inspiration: Pablo Neruda's Sonnet IX (included in end notes).

* * *

  


Darth Festus stands on the cold, storm-struck beach of Kordros, staring up at the Jedi Knight on the rocks above him. 

He wasn’t sure he would ever see her again, but here she is. 

He wonders why she’s alone, where her traitorous bastard of a master is, how she even ended up on this planet to begin with— 

_Alone,_ he realizes with a thrill. No one to interfere this time, no one to stop him from running her through and ending her life, no one to see him hold her as she takes her last breath— 

He inhales deep to steady himself. 

She holds her lightsaber vertical in front of her, its cerulean beam pointing toward the gray-clouded sky as if it could call down lightning at her command. White-capped waves break against the rocks beneath her, sending up a cold spray that clings to that bright copper braid, to the stray hairs that have shaken loose around her face. 

A sensation he hasn’t felt in ages, sick and roiling in his gut. For a single moment, he forgets how to breathe. 

_—don’t be weak, don’t you dare—_

Every smug remark, every flippant comment is frozen in his throat, dead before they can reach his tongue. He remembers how he kneeled on the ground, pathetic, powerless, waiting to be struck down, only to have _her_ intervene. As if she _cared_ whether he lived or died. 

He hates her. He _knows_ he hates her. 

His boots sink into the sand as the surf crashes around him, and he unhooks his weapon from his belt and activates it with a sizzling _hiss_. He hates her, and he’ll prove it. Right here, right now. 

She glances up at the cliff above her, maybe wondering if she can escape that way before he reaches her. He tilts his head in that direction and feels a spark of fear from her as she realizes he’s already read her intent. They stare at each other, then – he from the turbulent shore, she from high upon the smooth, gleaming rocks. Isn’t that just how she’s always been, though? So high above him as to be completely and utterly unattainable? 

_That’s a weird thing to think,_ he tells himself. 

Another wave shatters against the rocks, startling her, and in that moment he springs forward. 

  


* * *

  


“You’ve been looking at the same screen for the last five minutes,” his brother says from behind him. 

Before he can react, his twin snatches the datapad from his hands, jumping backward to hold it out of reach. In a split-second, Festus weighs two vastly opposite reactions: lunge out of the chair to rip the datapad away from the thieving bastard, or play it off as little more than a nuisance. He opts for the latter. 

Festus leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “I was thinking about something else,” he answers casually. 

Ferrus looks down at the datapad, and his eyes narrow to a scowl. “Some _thing_?” he says, turning the datapad around and holding it out between them. “Or some _one_?” 

The rage that fills him in that moment is so quick and hot and blinding, he has to grab hold of it with both hands just to keep it behind the mental wall he so often erects around himself. 

_—so what if I was, what of it, why shouldn’t I have this one thing—_

Then the rage levels out, flowing back down into him slowly, emptying into the back of his mind where it always lies in wait. 

He considers whether to lie outright. That would definitely annoy his brother more. Does he feel like dealing with that today? 

He shrugs, saying nothing. 

The scowl on his twin’s face deepens. Ferrus tosses the datapad through the air, aiming just short of Festus’s outstretched hand. He pitches forward without thinking, catching hold of the device before it can hit the ground. 

“Nice save,” Ferrus says with a sneer. 

He stares down at the datapad in his hand, thinking how alien it suddenly feels there. The caption under the image shining up at him, bold, slightly fuzzy from being enlarged— 

_Jedi Order reestablishes temple on Tython and receives Republic envoys; pictured are Masters Tahiri Veila and Valin Horn, and Knights Elias Cain, Ben Skywalker, Allana Djo—_

She stands at Skywalker’s side in the image, her long braid draped over one shoulder, and he remembers being close enough to touch that braid, to stare into her gray eyes, to watch her lips curl up in a little smirk at the thought of outwitting him. 

_—don’t be weak, don’t be weak, don’t you ever, ever, ever—_

“Time to get your head out of the stars,” his brother says, accusing. “We’ve got work to do anyway.” 

He tears his eyes away from the screen and tosses the datapad onto the table. “A new target?” 

His twin’s features relax, and a slow grin stretches across his face. “Two, actually.” 

“Dead or alive?” 

The grin widens further. “One alive, the other one dead, if necessary. Some sort of serial killer pair that escaped a max prison on Naren.” 

Festus tilts his head to one side, observing his brother. “One for each of us? This is turning out to be a good day after all.” He stands up, yawning as he stretches his arms over his head. “I’ve got dibs on the dead man.” 

“Of course you do. I’ve got a lead, says they might have made their way to Kordros.” Ferrus leans over and shoves him none too gently in the shoulder. “You’re welcome for the distraction, by the way.” 

A trace of that earlier rage curls up in the back of his throat, but he plasters on a smile. “Where would I be without you, brother?” 

  


* * *

  


He lands on the rocks adjacent to her, taking care not to slip as he pivots to face her. She could maybe leap to the cliff above, but the rocks are slick, and he’d be right behind her anyway. Even if she does technically have the high ground, it’s not the greatest defensive position. And she has to remember how quickly he overpowered her the last time they fought. 

He jumps across the gap to join her on her perch. The flat, slippery surface is less than three meters across, and they are surrounded on nearly all sides by mounds of rock. She looks over her shoulder at the cliff, at the rocks, then raises her lightsaber between them, grim determination set in her slim face. Here, again, would be the perfect moment to put her off balance with a remark about her weak fighting style or how much he’s been looking forward to a rematch; but he still can’t get the words past his throat. His heart is racing. _Too fast,_ he thinks. 

She moves first, slashing up from her hip, and he counters swiftly. Leans into her blade and grins at her through the sparking, hissing beams of light. They break apart and come together again, sabers battering each other, an echo of waves pummeling rock below. She’s gotten better, that’s for sure. No longer the timid, frightened girl he defeated on Vjun. There’s still fear in her – fear of him and what he’ll do to her if he wins – but there’s also a confidence that wasn’t there before. He wonders how her lips would feel against his. 

That sick feeling in his stomach again, a voice that whispers _weakness_ and _shame_ and _distraction_. He grinds those thoughts out of his head and presses his attack, aware that they are both very close to the edge of the rock. 

He sees the opening before she even creates it, blazing out at him in the Force like a target directly over her heart. In three moves he will disarm her, send her lightsaber flying far from her grasp; and before she can spring away from him to retrieve it, he will bury the crimson blade in her chest. Be rid of her storm-gray eyes and her sun-fire hair and her soft voice and her _mercy_ , forever and ever. 

He catches her lightsaber against his, and this is the moment, where he will roll his wrists and snap them up, tear the weapon from her hands and end this, end _her_. He stares across the blades, into those eyes reflecting sky and sea, and then Darth Festus does something he hasn’t done in years. 

He hesitates. 

She shoves back at him, sending him tumbling from the rock, crashing hard to the sand below. He gasps at the impact, swallowing seawater as the surf smashes into him and tries to drag him away from the shore. When he finally pulls himself to his knees and looks up at the rocks above, she is already gone. 

He digs his fingers into the wet sand, realizing as he does that it isn’t exactly rage he feels. He’s not sure what it is, really. It sits heavy in his chest, filling the usual void in a way he’s never experienced. 

_—don’t be weak, what are you doing, you can’t be weak—_

He hates her. He _knows_ he hates her. 

Another voice in his head, not his own this time, but one that is just as familiar to him. One that he hasn’t heard out loud in three years, though it still whispers to him in his nightmares. 

_My dear, dear boy,_ he hears the doctor say. _Whatever else you do, don’t lie to yourself._

The waves shatter against him and around him, and all he can think is that they never said a word to each other, and wouldn’t it have been nice to hear her voice one more time? 

  


_**Fin** _

**Author's Note:**

> There where the waves shatter on the restless rocks  
> the clear light bursts and enacts its rose,  
> and the sea-circle shrinks to a cluster of buds,  
> to one drop of blue salt, falling.
> 
> O bright magnolia bursting in the foam,  
> magnetic transient whose death blooms  
> and vanishes–being, nothingness–forever:  
> broken salt, dazzling lurch of the sea.
> 
> You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence,  
> while the sea destroys its perpetual statues,  
> collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness:
> 
> because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics,  
> galloping water, incessant sand,  
> we make the only permanent tenderness. 
> 
> —Sonnet IX, Pablo Neruda


End file.
